


You Save Me Every Day

by AnneCumberbatch



Series: Sometimes in the Evening [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Chores, Comforting Sherlock Holmes, Danger, Danger is normal, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Boyfriends, Domestic Fluff, Domestic John Watson, Domestic Life at 221B Baker Street, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff, John does the laundry, Laundry, M/M, Ordinary People, Ordinary lives, Short & Sweet, Snapshots, Sometime in the Evenings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 19:00:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17607098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnneCumberbatch/pseuds/AnneCumberbatch
Summary: John enjoys hints of an ordinary life, moments where he glimpses a life outside of the danger of their normal lives. Sherlock explains to John why he has no fear of this danger.





	You Save Me Every Day

 

They had gone out to dinner at the Indian place around the corner and had returned to the flat sated. Sherlock had gone straight to the bedroom and flung himself out onto the bed, his shoed-feet dangling off the side of the bed. John followed him and had turned to the full basket of clean laundry on the floor. He swiftly dumped the laundry onto the bed and started sorting it, beginning with his jeans, folding in half, running his hand down the leg to smooth it out, then folding it in half and then in half again. He reached for another pair to repeat the process.

Sherlock leaned up on one elbow and watched him for a few moments. “You like doing this, don’t you.”

“Like doing what? Laundry?  It’s not my all-time favourite thing to do, but I don’t mind it.” John quirked an eyebrow at him and reached for another pair of pants.

“No, keeping house.” Sherlock shifted his position on the bed, leaning back and resting folded arms behind his head. “You like the domesticity.”

John shrugged. “I don’t mind it. It’s nice, sometimes. Peaceful.”

“You like taking care of people.”

“I do.” John looked up and smiled softly at him. “Especially you. Even if you do leave me with _all_ of the chores.”

Sherlock looked affronted. “I cleaned the kitchen the other day.”

John set down the shirt he was folding. “That was two weeks ago, Sherlock, and you had blown up a lung, of course you were going to deep clean the kitchen.”  

“Well, there you go. I deep cleaned.” Sherlock closed his eyes.

“Because I threatened to move to a hotel room until you did so.” John resumed folding.

Sherlock’s eyes stayed closed. “You had no intention to move to a hotel room. We both know that.”

“No, I suppose not.” John lifted a pile of his clothes and walked to the dresser, opening the drawer and placing them inside. “You did jump to clean, though.”

“I know you’re truly angry when you threaten to leave, even if it is an empty threat.” Sherlock murmured from the bed. “It behooved me to move quickly.”

“Well, aren’t you a genius.” John plucked two dress shirts from the pile of laundry and went to the closet to hang them. “I’ll have to iron these later.”

“I don’t understand why you don’t just have the laundry sent out. They send everything back pressed and folded. Then you could focus on more important things.” Sherlock shifted on the bed.

“More important like you?” John gave him a glance over his shoulder.

“Possibly.” Sherlock’s hands straightened his shirt down over his torso. “Something like that.”

“Well, maybe you’re right then. I do enjoy it. It’s ordinary, something normal people do everywhere. It’s something I would be doing if we had a normal life, if we were normal people. You know, if I went out to work regularly every day from seven to five and then came home and we had dinner. And you could work or not work, whatever you wanted. If we lived in a world without murders or villains who try to slaughter us whenever they get the chance. If we lived in a world of routine and going out to drinks with friends and seeing movies and theatre and visiting family every so often…” John hesitated at the closet, his hands running absently over the clothing hanging there, his back to Sherlock.

Sherlock froze, his eyes fixed on John’s back. “John... I didn’t realise you were unsatisfied with our quality of life.”

John turned to him, his eyes wide. “No! No, I’m not complaining. It was just a thought that passed through my mind. No. Christ, I love our life, Sherlock. I love this mad life we have together. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.” He came over and sat on the bed next to his beloved. He reached out and carded a hand through Sherlock’s tangled curls. “I wouldn’t trade you for anything. I am, without a doubt, the happiest and most content man on earth. Although, would it kill you to hoover the living room occasionally?”

Sherlock pondered this for a moment before deciding. “It very well might.”

John laughed at him and kissed his forehead. “Alright then. I will continue to save your life.”

“Do you want to do more of those things? Having a routine. Drinks with... friends and movies and concerts and family visits? Is that something you would like to have?” Sherlock’s eyes sought out John’s, his hand resting on John’s thigh.

John looked to the side. “I don’t know. I’m completely fine with this life, Sherlock, truly, I am. I’m happier than I’ve ever been. It’s just… sometimes I see the ordinary lives of the people who surround us and wonder what that must be like. To not have to fear for your life every time we go outside. To not wonder if today is the day some lunatic decides to kidnap you for sport and torture you and kill you because I’m just not fast enough to find you and save you.” John’s throat tightened at the thought and he closed his eyes tightly.

Sherlock brought his hand up and caressed John’s cheek, his voice quiet. “You save me every day, John Watson, in more ways than you could possibly imagine.”

The tenderness in Sherlock’s voice caused John’s chest to tighten and his voice cracked as he whispered. “I love you.

The hand on John’s cheek brought him closer into a kiss. “And I, you. And I understand. Living under the shadow of impending threats against us, against me, against you. If something were to happen to you, I would never recover. But living under that fear should not dissuade us from living the life we want to live.”

“It’s not. It isn’t. It just makes me wonder sometimes, is all.” John smiled weakly at him. “I am getting older, after all, and-”

“John, I swear to God, do not complete that thought. You are, by far, the most capable man I have ever met in my life. Heaven and earth could not stop you from reaching me if the need arose. I have no fear for my life because of you. And your age is not a deterrent in the least. Not yet, anyways. And when it becomes so, we’ll retire and take up something more ordinary.”

John kissed his hand. “Like beekeeping in the country? Don’t think I didn’t see those books you bought.”

A pale pink flush arose on Sherlock’s cheeks. “It’s more interesting than you would think. I was rather taken aback by my own interest in the subject.”

“Mm. Why don’t you tell me about it while I finish the laundry?” John made to stand from his spot on the bed, but Sherlock pulled him close for a kiss, wrapping his other arm around John’s waist and pressing against him. After they separated, John pressed their foreheads together as they worked to catch their breaths.

Sherlock murmured to him, “Every day, John. You save me every day.”

**Author's Note:**

> Questions, comments, and critiques are always welcome. Thank you for reading!


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